


Everything you feel is good

by Qpenguin98



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Character, Enthusiastic Consent, Episodes 159-160, Healthy discussions, M/M, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, shrug emoji Whoops!, you know sometimes it's just good!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qpenguin98/pseuds/Qpenguin98
Summary: "The safe house is nice. It’s comfortable. There’s plenty for them to worry about, but it feels far away. Martin’s almost coming to enjoy himself here."
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 15
Kudos: 338





	Everything you feel is good

The safe house is nice. It’s comfortable. There’s plenty for them to worry about, but it feels far away. Martin’s almost coming to enjoy himself here. There’s moments when he forgets completely why they’re here and what they’re running from, that it’s just him and Jon, alone together on holiday. He’s rudely interrupted in those thoughts by the sight of a tape recorder, finding another one of Daisy’s weapons stashed away, the way his breath gets misty when he’s out alone.

Jon and him have talked, have made it through their discussions of the Lonely and what it means for them and where they stand with each other, and it’s nice. Martin feels like he’s standing on solid ground for once in his relationship with Jon. He loves him. He loves him and is loved back and maybe it’s hard to believe sometimes, but it’s true. He can look at him, can know without Knowing just by the slack in his shoulders or the way his hand twists together with Martin’s, and he knows that he’s loved.

It’s something to get used to for sure, but Martin doesn’t think he’ll ever take it for granted.

“Hey,” Jon says, dropping into the chair across from him at Daisy’s small dining table. Martin’s nursing a cup of tea, holding it between his hands to soak in warmth. It’s gotten colder, wind seeping in through the cracks in the house, but not so cold that they need to worry.

“Hey,” Martin says, smiling. Jon smiles back, resting his head on a hand.

“I…” Jon says, staring down at Martin’s hands on his mug. Martin holds a hand out questioningly and Jon takes it, twisting his fingers around his, never stopping for long before switching to a new position to hold. “We should talk.”

Martin’s stomach drops, and he tries to keep it from showing on his face. Of course this. Of course, here, run away from the horrors of their life, Jon can’t stand to be with him.

Martin tells his brain to shut the absolute fuck up and try and listen for once before jumping to horrible conclusions, and he does his best to keep the albeit shaky smile on his face, raising his eyebrows. “What about?”

Jon’s brows furrow and he squeezes Martin’s fingers. He’s still not looking up at him. “It’s… I haven’t really had to deal with this for a while. You’re the first person in years that I’ve really had, had a relationship with so it hasn’t come up.”

“What?” Martin asks, a little less terrified than he’d been the minute before. This seems like a fact about Jon, something not to do about an ultimatum with Martin. But it could be. It could be that Martin does something that Jon is very particular about disliking, or he needs something more, or—

“I’m not interested in sex,” Jon says, finally looking up at him. Martin’s train of thought stops in his tracks. “For myself. I’m not really attracted to people like that, and I don’t really have an interest in, hmm, receiving, though the term’s a bit crude.”

Martin stares at him for a moment before his nerves boil over and he lets out a quiet laugh. Jon’s face turns stricken and he moves to pull his hand back. Martin stops him, grabbing it tighter and trying to tamp down his laughter.

“No,” he says, smiling. “No, Jon that’s fine. That’s perfect. I’m not laughing at you.”

“Then what…?”

“Do you remember,” Martin says, unable to keep the little titters of laughter from escaping his mouth. “Do you remember when I told you about lying on my CV and you started laughing about how relieved you were?”

“Yes?” Jon says, confused. Martin just smiles at him, squeezes his hand again, and Jon’s face lights up. “Oh. Oh! Oh god, I didn’t even think about how the beginning of that _sounded_ —”

“It’s fine,” Martin says, because it is now. He’d been nervous, terrified, but it was fine. Because Jon is actually opening up to him unprompted for the first time in probably ever and Martin’s too giddy to care about the fact that he’d be certain he was about to be left.

“It’s not,” Jon says, frowning. “I should’ve started some other way, made sure you knew it wasn’t about you.”

“Jon, it is fine,” he says, and he softens his face into something that feels a bit less manic. This is Jon time, and he does not want to interrupt it with his terrible self doubt. “Thank you. For telling me. I think I’d heard Melanie mention something about it before, but I’m glad you’re telling me. That’s fine. We don’t have to have sex to be together. I’m fine with us as is.”

“That’s not exactly it?” He says it like it’s a question even to himself. “I mean, I’ve had sex before, it’s not that. I’m not really interested in it for myself but I don’t mind participating? It’s— giving and receiving are terrible ways to put things, but I’m not opposed to… giving?”

“Oh,” Martin says smartly. “I, Jon I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I’m offering,” Jon says, and he smiles. It’s comfortable, loose. He doesn’t look like he’s forcing himself to say any of this. “Maybe not right now, the mood doesn’t exactly seem right. But if you ever want me to, I don’t mind. I hesitate to use the word fun, but it can be fun, watching, helping. I wouldn’t want it returned, but I like being a part of it.”

“Alright. Only if you’re sure.”

“I am an adult, I can make my own decisions,” Jon says sarcastically. “Not everything I choose to do in my life has terrible consequences.”

“Just making sure!”

It doesn’t come up for a few days, and even then it doesn’t really come up so much as go into action. Martin’s on the couch, leaning a bit of his weight on Jon, mostly for the contact, while Jon looks through an old pile of notes. Martin shifts in his seat and Jon turns his head. He looks down and Martin and smiles, craning down a bit to kiss him. His hand cups Martin’s cheek and Martin leans up to deepen it.

It’s nice, the kissing. They’re both a bit out of practice, Martin less so than Jon, but it’s good. It’s one of the things Martin enjoys most about being out in the Scottish Highlands. He can kiss him and not worry. He can kiss him and know that his feelings are reciprocated.

Jon pulls back and seems to decide something in his mind. He places the paperwork on the table and shifts, body swinging out from under Martin to on top of him. His body sits atop Martin’s legs and Martin is surprised. Jon leans back in, pulling his face up with his hands to greet him in the kiss. Martin’s hand comes to rest on his hips, holding him in place so he doesn’t accidentally slip off. The skin on Martin’s thighs is tingling from the weight of Jon on top of him, the sensation of touching, and he hums contentedly into the kiss.

Jon kisses at the corner of his mouth next, down his chin to his neck, and Martin can’t help the giggle that comes up out of him.

“Is this alright?” Jon asks, sucking a kiss into his neck after. Martin nods.

“Yes,” he says, a bit breathier than he’d like. “That’s excellent.”

Jon pets a hand down his front, still kissing at his neck, and Martin’s hands move to his waist. He holds him firmly in place, and he can feel the grin against his neck. Jon pauses for a moment before scraping his teeth down the length of his throat and Martin lets out a strangled noise.

“Jon—” he says, choked, and Jon presses an innocent kiss at the bottom of his neck before sitting up.

“Yes?” he asks, like he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing. One of his hands slips under Martin’s shirts, skimming his nails lightly down his side, and Martin arches up into it, eyes fluttering shut for a second.

“Is this okay with you?” he asks him, grabbing the hand under his shirt to pause it. Jon looks at him funny, placing the hand not under his shirt on top of the one Martin has on his waist.

“Martin, if you couldn’t tell I’m initiating,” he says dryly, and Martin rolls his eyes. “I don’t see how it could not be.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay with this!” Martin says. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you have to. Like this is something you have to do for me to want to be with you. I love you. That means all of you.”

“I love you too,” Jon says quietly, gently. “Martin, I don’t know how to get this through to you, but I want this. I want to make you feel good. I’m not uncomfortable. I definitely wouldn’t be pushing for anything if I were.”

“Alright,” he says, pulling his hand back from Jon’s wrist. “Alright.”

“Are you alright with this?” Jon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Very much so,” Martin answers. “I am very, very much alright with this.”

“Good,” Jon says, and then dives back into kissing him again. Martin pulls him in closer and Jon makes a pleased noise against his mouth. His nails are making little patterns in his side and the trailing sensation it leaves behind makes him ache.

“What do you want?” Jon breathes out against his lips.

“Y-your hand?” Martin suggests. Jon pulls another kiss out of him between words. “That would be nice.”

He sits up, pulling at Martin’s sweater, and he complies. It’s a bit awkward, pressed between Jon and the couch how he is, but he manages. He leaves the t-shirt on underneath, stripping the sweater from his torso. It’s not that he hates his body, far from it. There are just times he’s rather not be fully exposed. The idea of taking his shirt off doesn’t make him feel great right now, so he leaves it on. Jon seems to understand and doesn’t press, dragging his nails down Martin’s sides under the shirt. Martin lets out a shaky noise and bats at him.

“Pants,” he says, and Jon swings off of his legs. He unbuttons and slips them off and is left with his boxers. Jon looks at him, pulls him into another deep, close kiss, and then starts manhandling him.

“This way will be easier,” he says quietly, sitting back between the armrest and the back of the couch and pulling Martin to lay on top of him. He leans over and kisses him, mouth upside down, and Martin can’t help laughing a bit.

“Not very conducive to your incessant kissing,” he says.

“Hush,” Jon says fondly. “You love my incessant kissing.”

“I do,” he says as he leans up to catch his lips with his own.

Jon trails a hand down his front, drawing patterns in his front through the shirt with his other hand, the arm keeping him in place. He rubs his fingers gently over Martin through his boxers, and he raises his hips up to meet him. He stays like that for a while, teasing through the fabric until Martin whines in complaint, pressing his crotch to Jon’s hand firmly.

“This alright?” Jon asks as he slips his hand into his boxers. He doesn’t try to take them off, there’s enough stretch that he doesn’t have to, and Martin’s grateful for it.

“Very,” Martin breathes out. Jon rubs a tentative finger over his dick, and Martin inhales sharply. He reaches down lower, pulls up some wetness on his fingers, and returns, rubbing circular motions over him.

He moans up into open air, reaching up to clutch at Jon’s arm. He presses a kiss to his forehead, two fingers resting on either side of him and moving in that same clockwise motion and Martin squeezes his eyes shut.

“Good?”

“Mhm,” he affirms shakily. He can feel Jon’s eyes on him, staring, knowing, soaking in every sight he can from this experience, and it sends a shudder down his body. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, Jon’s ever present gaze, but right now it’s giving him nothing but pleasure.

Jon reaches one finger down questioningly, rubs over his hole slowly to give him time to answer, and Martin nods, not opening his eyes. He presses a finger in slowly, curling up into him and Martin arches. The heel of his hand presses against him, rubbing him in time with the slow movement of his finger, and he pulls in a shaky inhale.

“Please,” he whines out. “Please, Jon I need— I—”

He presses a second finger in next to the first one, slow for the slight stretch that he feels. He spreads his fingers and Martin groans, opening his eyes a crack. The sight of his hand down his shorts, is an excellent one, and Martin bites his lip to keep from letting out a noise.

“Don’t,” Jon says hungrily. “Want to hear you.”

He crooks his fingers, grinds down on Martin’s dick, and he lets out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut again. Watching is too much for him, feeling almost is too. Jon leans down and kisses him, taking his noises into his mouth, kissing him as best he can at the angle. Martin doesn’t care. He feels enveloped, help, and this is absolute bliss. He’d thought about this before, stopped after hearing that Jon wasn’t interested in sex, but this is better than his thoughts. This is real and hot and heavy and Jon’s doing a very good job of exploring.

A third finger presses slowly in next to the others and Martin keens, clutching Jon’s shirt in his hand tightly. Jon takes that as his go ahead and presses all the way in.

“Ha-aaah,” Martin exhales, bucking up to push him deeper. “Please, more, i-it’s good, it’s so good, Jon please.”

“You’re a sight to see like this,” Jon says huskily. Martin opens his eyes and looks up at him. His eyes are dark, taking in the sight of him, and Martin’s transfixed. Jon thrusts his fingers in, deeper, faster, grinds his heel back down on his dick, but Martin can’t close his eyes. Jon stares at him, smile creeping onto his face, and Martin tries to match it, but Jon hooks his fingers again, and he doesn’t let up this time, pressing into him faster, exactly how Martin wants it.

“J-Jon,” Martin says aimlessly, and Jon kisses him again. It’s slopping, their mouths don’t really match, but Jon’s other hand reaches down and curls over him, rubbing that same good so good very good circle motion over him, the first hand pressing up and into him again and again, building him up.

“Martin,” Jon breathes out against his lips, pulling back to look at him. “Come for me?”

He nods, stares up into his eyes. Jon notices, eyebrows going up in surprise before he grins, looking at him with that smile that’s gotten Martin from the first time he saw it, and Martin comes with a drawn out moan. Jon doesn’t let up immediately, tapering his motions off slowly, and Martin lets his eyes fall closed. He sucks in a breath and gives a shaky laugh as he breathes out.

Jon pulls his hands back, reaching out and grabbing a tissue to wipe them off. He presses a kiss to Martin’s forehead, letting his lips rest there. Martin lets his body come down, breathing in deep and pulling Jon’s arms around him tightly. Jon’s happy to oblige, squeezing him close.

“That was good,” Jon says, quiet in the heavy air. Martin cracks an eye up, finds Jon looking at him with a very fond expression, and he smiles.

“It was _so_ good.” Jon laughs at him and Martin smiles bigger. “You did very well, Jonathan Sims. You’ve passed my test.”

“What, successfully making you come?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Exactly! This has all been pre-prepared to see if you could live up to both our standards, and by god did you pass.”

Jon barks out a laugh, squeezing Martin closer, and he feels nicely warm and fuzzy inside.

“Good to know I did well,” Jon says eventually, composing himself enough to speak. “I’d hate to have failed that.”

“With you on board, I think it’s in your favor. Pretty easy to pass you know?”

“Sure,” Jon says, half a grin on his face as he looks down at him. “Do you want to clean up or lay here?”

“Mmmm, you are more comfortable than you look.”

“Thank you?” Jon says, raising an eyebrow. “I think?”

“You’re welcome,” Martin says as he wiggles around, twisting to they’re laying face to face, Martin resting his chin on Jon’s sternum. “I’d like to lay here, if we can?”

“Of course,” Jon says. He runs a hand up through the back of Martin’s hair and he lets out a pleased noise, closing his eyes.

“Thanks,” Martin says quietly. “I know you said you like… giving, but thank you.”

“I do,” Jon says. “It’s not some massive hardship for me to enjoy. It’s intimate, in one of the most literal senses of the word. You’re… people are more open in sex sometimes, and I like seeing all sides of my partners, you know? It’s nice for me, to be able to give something like that, even if it doesn’t interest me to have it given back to me.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, reopening his eyes and smiling at him. His cheeks hurt from how much he’s been smiling, but it’s worth it. It’s nice. Jon is so incredibly nice to be around at this point. “You’re nice.”

“So’re you,” Jon says, smiling right back at him. Martin’s not sure he’s ever seen him smile so much in the years they’ve known each other, and that’s the cherry on top.

“I love you,” Martin says, muffled by Jon’s shirt as he presses his face into it.

“I love you too,” he says, rubbing his hand through his hair again. Martin wraps his arms around Jon and settles in.

He thinks he could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> i didnt meant to write this but then i did and you know what it sure is here!  
> i dont have a lot for these notes but uhhhh comment if you liked!


End file.
